


i made breakfast

by knight_of_the_profound_fable



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bickering, Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Kuroo cooks, Light Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Time Skips, Yaku can't, but he can make coffee, im sorry, post-college, they have breakfast together
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-10-04 22:23:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10291517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knight_of_the_profound_fable/pseuds/knight_of_the_profound_fable
Summary: The first time he made breakfast to say thank you. At some point along the way, he starts making breakfast to say I love you.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kai/gifts).



> Hi, this is my gift for Kai for the hq!! rare pair exchange!! This idea was very simple and short and then it turned into an extended slow burn multi-chaptered fic (which is how most of my ideas end up). It's very domestic and fluffy and I hope you enjoy it! Also, shout-out to my amazingly wonderful beta Emma (smile_for_me) who encouraged me and kept me going through this whole process. I couldn't have done it without her. I love her very much. Go check out her writing, as well.

“Suga, he needs to leave.”

Suga sighs from his position at his desk. “You’re the one who offered to let him stay on our couch.”

Daichi stands in the doorway, fuming. “Well, I’m revoking my offer.” He holds out an empty egg carton. “He used up all the eggs! There was at least a half dozen left!”

Perking up, Suga sets down his pen and turns to face Daichi. “Ooh, what’d he make?”

“Suga-san, you have to try these cookies,” Kuroo says as he rounds the corner, displaying a tray of fresh cookies in front of him. “I added just a hint of—”

“Suga, don’t fall for his bribery. We paid for those eggs. He isn’t even paying rent,” Daichi argues as Suga reaches forward to pluck a cookie from the tray. Daichi blocks his access before he can grab one. “He’s not even the culinary major here, he’s a biochemist!”

“You never even use eggs for your cooking classes! You use rice for everything!” Kuroo says in his defense. 

“You use up the rice all the time, too!” Daichi yells back.

“Cooking is his way of relieving stress, Daichi. Plus, he always shares his makings with us, so at least he’s generous.” Suga’s hand slowly inches his hand forward but Daichi swats it away from the cookies again. 

“He’s always using my food and my kitchen, though! I can’t take it!”

“Says the guy who always uses up all the hot water,” Kuroo mutters.

“Hot water that I pay for!” 

“He has a point, Daichi, you do steal all the hot water,” Suga contests. Daichi scowls as Suga continues. “But that’s besides the point. This is only temporary; he’s still looking for a place. In the meantime, he can bake things for us as payment.” Suga eyes the cookies but doesn’t make a move to snatch one yet. 

“I’m the only one who should be baking for you!” Daichi practically growls.

Kuroo whistles. “Someone sure is jealous.”

Before Daichi can retort, Suga intervenes. “We have the rest of our lives for you to bake for me, Daichi. Kuroo is only here for a little while.”

With Daichi’s attention turned towards Suga, he steps forward. His voice grows softer, almost whiny. “But with him here, we never have time for ourselves anymore.” Cold fingers slip under Suga’s shirt and brush along his waistline, causing him to shiver. His boyfriend nuzzles his face into the curve of his neck and Suga fights the blush rising to his cheeks. “We haven’t had a night to ourselves in forever,” Daichi murmurs. 

“Not fair, Sawamura, not fair,” Kuroo huffs from the doorway. 

“You do have a point, Daichi,” Suga mumbles. “Kuroo has stolen all of our alone time.”

“Yes, and if he leaves, we can have it back,” Daichi taunts.

Suga hums in contemplation. He doesn’t necessarily want to just kick Kuroo out, but he misses his time with his boyfriend. The taller man is still standing in the doorway, looking mildly squeamish. Suga figures he had better end his discomfort. “Sorry Kuroo-san, Daichi drives a hard bargain here,” Suga says, glancing at Kuroo and offering an apologetic smile. 

Knowing he’s won, Daichi smirks against Suga’s neck before facing Kuroo. “You’d better find a new place soon, Kuroo, or you’ll be in for a real surprise.” Kuroo grimaces and Suga pinches Daichi, receiving a yelp in return. When the phone rings in the other room, Suga takes the opportunity to remove himself from Daichi’s embrace and sneak a cookie from Kuroo’s tray as he leaves to answer the phone. 

Kuroo and Daichi are left glaring at each other. Kuroo extends his array of cookies to the other man. “You know you want to try one,” he taunts.

Daichi’s eyes narrow, but he grabs one of them anyway and bites into it. After chewing carefully for a few moments, he grins. “They’re good, I’ll give you that, but they’re lacking in—”

“Cinnamon,” Kuroo interrupts. “I know. That’s why I had to make another batch and in doing so, I used up the rest of the eggs.”

The teasing smile Daichi held returns to its former scowl. “You’re buying me more eggs.”

The taller man smirks. “Only if you can beat my last benching record.”

“Of course you choose benching. Squats would be too easy for me to win.”

“What can I say, even I know my squats are inferior,” Kuroo grimaces, but keeps steady eye contact with the other man. “So, do we have a deal?”

“You bet we do.”

“Does this mean we’re still gym partners?”

“Tch. Of course we are,” Daichi confirms. “It’s rare to find someone who can keep up with my workout regime.” 

“Good news!” Suga says, rushing back into the room. “I think I found a new place for Kuroo.”

*****

~1 week later~

The alarm blaring on the coffee table next to him jolts Kuroo from his sleeping stupor. He fumbles for his phone and sighs in relief when the ringing stops. It’s Saturday, he thinks. There’s no reason my alarm should be going off. After dismissing it as a mistake, he contemplates falling back asleep, but the appeal of breakfast is stronger. His feet drag as he enters the kitchen and he pulls on a sweatshirt to keep warm in the early morning chill. By the time Daichi exits his room, clad in exercise attire, Kuroo has the coffee brewed and omelette makings waiting on the counter. 

The two greet each other with matching, ‘good morning’s while Kuroo pours his coffee into a mug. “I bought you new eggs, but I’m about to use two of them for an omelette. Do you want one?” Kuroo says. 

Daichi shakes his head. “No thanks. I’ll probably make one after my run.”

Kuroo gives a brief grunt of acknowledgement before placing a pan on the stove. “Need a running partner?”

“You wouldn’t last,” Daichi remarks. He prepares a protein shake for himself and shoots Kuroo a smirk. 

“Maybe if you didn’t run so early I could keep up, but it’s too cold in the mornings. I don’t get how you do it.” Kuroo shakes his head and begins frying his vegetables. 

“Excuses, excuses,” Daichi tuts. “I could still beat you if it were an afternoon run.”

The other scoffs in return and their banter continues as the smell of Kuroo’s cooking permeates the apartment. By the time Kuroo is sliding his finished omelette onto his plate, Daichi is sipping the last of his protein shake and heading for the door. He pauses in the midst of slipping his running shoes on and glances back at Kuroo. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to check out that apartment today? What time is that at?”

Kuroo feels his chest constrict with dread. Oh, no. He checks the time on the stove and swears. “I’m so screwed.” Working quickly, he dumps his coffee into a travel mug, grabs his phone, and stares longingly at his omelette for a fleeting moment before dashing to the door. 

Suga exits his and Daichi’s shared bedroom, yawning and stretching. “Ooh, is that an omelette I smell?”

The only response he gets is a grumbled, “You can have it,” from Kuroo as he shuffles out the door with his feet only partially tucked into his shoes. He still hears Daichi chuckle from the doorway and Suga wishing him luck while he makes his way down the hall, scowling.

This is why I had an alarm set on a Saturday morning.

*****

Yaku had been ecstatic to hear that he wouldn’t have to move out. He had originally called Sugawara-san to see if he had a spare bedroom or couch that he could use until he found a new place. After his roommate moved out a few months ago, Yaku struggled to find a new one at this time of year, and he couldn’t afford the rent with only his income to sustain himself. By the time he called Suga, he had given up. It was dumb luck that they already had someone sleeping on their couch, searching for a new apartment, too. 

Maybe he shouldn’t call it ‘luck.’

Yaku has been sitting in his living room, idly scrolling through his social media feed for the past thirty minutes. He has spent nearly every waking moment since he arrived the night before cleaning his apartment. After a two week vacation with his family, he came home and immediately began the process of tidying up. The following morning he had scrubbed every floor, wiped down every countertop and tabletop, organized every shelf, drawer, and desktop, and picked up every piece of laundry lying around his...well, everywhere. He used his remaining time to shower and make himself presentable with ten minutes to spare. 

He didn’t know the guy would be at least twenty minutes late. 

Now he is waiting, as he has been for quite a while, and is growing impatient. Just as Yaku thinks about getting up to drink another glass of water, there’s a knock at the door. He slips his phone into his pocket and makes his way to the door, mumbling a quiet, “Finally.”

When he opens the door, the guy on the other side is bent forward in a bowing stance, though he could just be hunched over from exhaustion. He clearly ran here, seeing as he’s out of breath. Despite his panting, he manages to rasp out, “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot.”

At least he’s honest about it, Yaku thinks. His irritation ebbs away a bit and he dismisses the man’s tardiness with a wave of his hand. After all, Suga-san and Sawamura-san kept him in their home, so this is probably just a small mistake. “It’s fine, it’s fine. I’m just glad you could make it,” Yaku says with a welcoming smile and a reciprocating bow. 

When they both straighten up, Yaku’s annoyance returns full force because good god is he tall. He’s at least a head taller than Suga would be and about two heads taller than Yaku. 

It’s infuriating.

His face is nearly as irritating as his height. There’s something about that calculating gaze roaming over Yaku from head to toe that grates on his nerves. He just radiates ‘crafty’—like he’s hiding something. 

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. Pleased to meet you,” he greets.

Yaku maintains his smile, regardless of his suspicions, and introduces himself in return. “Yaku Morisuke. Glad you could make it.”

“As am I.”

Yaku steps aside to let Kuroo in and waits for the other to remove his shoes and step into his guest slippers. As Yaku leads him into the living room, he watches Kuroo closely out of the corner of his eye to observe his reaction. He needs to make sure Kuroo likes the place and accepts the offer. Otherwise, Yaku will be without an apartment, same as Kuroo. 

Kuroo nods appreciatively as he scans the room. “This looks great. I’m in,” he says.

Yaku blanches. “You—um, what?”

The look he gives Yaku makes his blood boil. He feels like a child under that gaze, like Kuroo is mocking him just with his eyes. “I’m in,” he says slowly, as if talking slower will make Yaku understand. “The place looks good, and Daichi is prepared to kick me to the curb if I don’t sign off on this place, so I’m in. I’ll take the spare room.”

Yaku’s eyes narrow into slits. “You’ve literally only seen the living room,” he deadpans. “Don’t you want to see the rest of it before you agree to anything?” He’s grateful the guy is willing to take the room, but he didn’t clean every inch of his apartment only for this snarky, bean-pole to take one look at the living room and agree to move in. Kuroo is going to see every aspect of this place before he signs the lease, whether he likes it or not. 

“Ah, yeah, of course. I should probably first make sure you’re not some serial killer hiding dead bodies in his closet. I have a feeling I would be less inclined to accept if you planned on killing me in my sleep.” Kuroo smirks and has the audacity to give Yaku a teasing wink. 

This only makes Yaku’s scowl deepen. “If you ever wink at me again, I’ll make sure your body isn’t hidden somewhere so conspicuous as a closet.”

The comment took Kuroo by surprise and he barked a laugh. “I think we’ll get along just fine, Yaku-san,” he said, sporting his natural smirk. 

Yaku’s mouth betrays him and forms something resembling a half-smile. For our sake, I hope we do.

 

*****

 

After Yaku showed Kuroo around, he offered him something to drink to compliment an amicable chat. He learned that Kuroo is a fourth year in college, just like he is. However, while Yaku goes to Hosei University, Kuroo goes to Taisho. Kuroo is a biochemist, studying to become a traveling researcher. Yaku told him he’d rather stay local and be a teacher someday. They discovered they both grew up in Tokyo, but they attended different schools. The conversation was full of banter, but it was mostly all in good fun. As much as Kuroo irritates Yaku, he has to begrudgingly admit that he probably won’t mind living with the guy for at least a year. After that, they will graduate, they will go their separate ways, and he will no longer have to deal with him. He can last a year. 

He has to.

So he and Kuroo make the trip down to the landlord’s office and Kuroo signs the lease. He promises to bring his down payment for the rent tomorrow, along with his belongings. Since Daichi and Suga are ready for him to leave, he wants to move in as soon as possible. 

True to his word, he shows up the following day, albeit another half hour late, with two large duffle bags in tow. Yaku was honestly expecting more stuff, but as it turns out, Kuroo is a surprisingly simplistic guy. Yaku is grateful for it. 

Once Kuroo is settled, more or less, Yaku heads for the library where he spends the next several hours studying for an exam he has later this week. He arrives home sometime in the early hours of the morning and promptly collapses into bed. As a fleeting thought before letting sleep overtake him he thinks, Maybe living with Kuroo won’t be so bad after all.

 

*****

Yaku doesn’t wake to his alarm — he wakes before it. 

At first, it’s startling. He wonders if he’s dreaming that he’s back at his parents’ house in his bed, but sure enough, he’s still in his apartment on his box-spring mattress. However, the only place he ever wakes to the wonderful smell of something cooking is home, which means he is either hallucinating from a lack of sleep, or someone is cooking in his apartment.

Then he remembers — Kuroo. 

He slowly slips out of his bed and pads into the kitchen to find his new roommate at the stove with a spatula in hand. Under his breath, Kuroo hums a soft tune that would lull Yaku back to sleep if the smell of food wasn’t so tempting. 

As Kuroo swivels to grab the salt from the counter, he notices Yaku standing in the kitchen doorway. He perks up at the sight of the shorter man in a way that’s much too cheery for Yaku at this ungodly hour of the morning.

“Oh, good morning,” Kuroo says. “I made breakfast. It should be ready in a few minutes. There weren’t too many ingredients for omelettes, so it’s mostly just eggs with some other things thrown in. I hope you aren’t allergic to anything.”

When there was no response from Yaku besides wide eyes and a slack jaw, Kuroo smirks and tosses a chopped mushroom slice at his open mouth. Yaku nearly bites his tongue in surprise. Scowling, he chews and swallows the mushroom slice before speaking — because he’s not a barbarian, he has manners.

“You asshole,” he finally growls. 

The smug look Kuroo sports only makes his blood boil more. “Just had to make sure you hadn’t broken your jaw. It seemed a bit unhinged for a moment there.” Kuroo returns to the stove, lightly seasoning the omelette on the pan with salt. Beside the frying pan, the tea kettle begins to whistle. Kuroo flicks off the burner heating it and pours the scalding water into two coffee cones that are seated atop two mugs. As he pours, Kuroo comments, “I can’t believe you still have coffee cones. Not a press, not a machine, cones. You realize that, like, no one uses these anymore, right? They’re much slower than the coffee maker machines.”

Yaku’s scowl deepens. “It tastes way better with cones.”

Kuroo merely scoffs. “It’s not about taste. All coffee tastes like dirt. Coffee is for caffeine and coffee machines are for time efficiency.”

“You’ve clearly never made coffee right if it always tastes like dirt to you.”

The expression on Kuroo’s face changes into something that sets Yaku on edge. He sets the tea kettle down and holds out his hand to Yaku. “You wanna bet on that?”

The shorter of the two narrows his eyes at the other. “What do you mean?”

“I bet you can’t make a good cup of coffee.”

The challenge lingering in Kuroo’s gaze fuels Yaku’s fighting nature. “And if I can?’

Kuroo ponders for a moment before responding. “I will buy you any brand of coffee grounds you want.” Yaku nods appreciatively and reaches out to take Kuroo’s hand, but Kuroo snaps it back. “But if I think your best cup of coffee still tastes terrible, then we have to get a coffee machine.”

Yaku looks at the hand held out to him with more apprehension this time. It’s his confidence in his coffee skills that compels him to take Kuroo’s hand. (Meanwhile, he swallows down the frustration of how his roommate’s hand seems to engulf his own.) He stares him down and says, “Deal.”

Kuroo’s grin looks downright eerie and his tall stature only adds to his looming presence. It sends chills down Yaku’s spine. “Great,” Kuroo says. He hands Yaku one of the mugs of coffee and turns off the burner heating their breakfast. Yaku intently watches his roommate slide their omelettes onto two separate plates, his mouth watering only slightly. He sips his coffee to tone down his excitement. The second the dark liquid reaches enters his mouth, his taste buds recoil and his throat burns. No wonder Kuroo hates coffee so much; he clearly doesn’t know how to make it. 

The same can’t be said about omelettes, though.

He hasn’t even taken a bite of the egg based dish, but the scent alone is enough to tell Yaku that it is high quality. Considering Yaku has next to nothing in his kitchen as far as food goes, he’s fairly impressed with what Kuroo could whip up. 

As Kuroo sets the plate in front of him with a pair of chopsticks following it, he says, “This is to say thank you. You know, for letting me rent out your other room.”

Yaku is surprised, to say the least. “And here I thought you were just going to make me breakfast every morning.”

Kuroo snorts. “You wish.”

They both murmur an “itadakimasu” before picking up their utensils and digging in. Yaku refrains from vocally expressing the degree to which he thoroughly enjoys the omelette, if only to avoid seeing that prideful smirk grace his roommate’s face. But it seems he has to give it some sort of praise when Kuroo asks, “How is it?”

Yaku glares at the smirk already forming on the other’s face. “You know damn well how it is.”

“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“It’s better than anything I could ever make, but that’s not saying much,” Yaku says.

“Do you usually make yourself breakfast?” Kuroo asks.

“My ‘breakfast’” Yaku emphasizes breakfast by doing air quotes with his fingers, “usually consists of toast. That’s about as far as my cooking skills go. My old roommate didn’t cook either, so I really only eat home cooked meals when I go to my parents’ house.” 

“That explains why you’re so low on meal supplies. Don’t tell me you’re just surviving on ramen like some typical college student.”

“I am a typical college student,” Yaku deadpans. 

“And that means some day you’ll be an atypical adult that only eats ramen because he never learned to cook for himself.” 

“And someday you’ll be a lonely adult, cooking for yourself, because no one will want to bicker with you all the time.”

Kuroo’s grin never falters. “I don’t know, I think I’ll find someone someday that will say, ‘Will you bicker with me for the rest of our lives?’.”

Yaku snorts. “You wish.”

And yet, he is smiling. 

 

*****

Living with Kuroo is draining, Yaku discovers. When he’s in a talking mood, all he does is argue, and when he isn’t, he stands tall and makes Yaku feel like a child and all Yaku wants to do is break the man’s knees. At least then he’d be taller than Kuroo since Kuroo would be in a wheelchair. But these intrusive thoughts only arise one or two or seven times a day. That is, of course, only if they are both home, which is just a few days per week. Some days, Yaku feels like he has seen more of Kuroo than his textbooks, while other days he can almost forget that he has a giant, provocative roommate that makes wonderful food. On those days, Kuroo is usually at the gym or out studying, and Yaku has the apartment to himself for what feels like a full 24 hours. On those days, Yaku considers whether Kuroo is even that bad of a roommate. 

But then Kuroo will prove that train of thought wrong the next day by starting another argument or by being tall and Yaku will remember all over again how frustrating the guy is. 

Each morning, Yaku wakes up and wonders which kind of day it will be.

This morning, he walks into the kitchen to see Kuroo standing in front of an open book on the counter while casting side glances at his breakfast heating on the stove. When he spots Yaku, he gives him a tired smile and says, “I made breakfast.”

Yaku makes a grunt of acknowledgement in return and begins to prepare his coffee. It’s been a month since the bet over the coffee machine and Yaku has yet to make Kuroo a cup of coffee. They’ve argued over the guidelines and rules of the bet multiple times—how much sugar or cream Yaku can add to the cup, which kind of coffee grounds he can use, etc.—and this weekend they are finally ready to put his skills to the test. 

For now, he is just going to make coffee for himself. He gets out his cone and filter, grabs the coffee, and opens the fridge for the half and half. He hears Kuroo muttering scientific nonsense to himself behind him and takes a moment to ponder if it will be an arguing day. After sneaking a glimpse of the other man hunched over his class notes, Yaku figures it will be, since his height doesn’t seem as infuriating today with the slouch in Kuroo’s spine. 

Or maybe today can be a new kind of day where Kuroo is silent and hunched and doesn’t bother Yaku at all. With this in mind, Yaku searches the cabinet for the cinnamon, only to find that Kuroo has moved it to a higher shelf. A shelf that, even on his tip-toes, Yaku can’t quite reach. Before he can climb onto the counter and retrieve the container, a looming figure appears behind him and plucks the spice off the shelf. When Yaku spins around, Kuroo is holding out the cinnamon for Yaku to take, a sleepy grin plastered onto his face. 

Yaku scowls menacingly and snatches the container from his hands. Just because Kuroo can reach something for Yaku doesn’t mean he should. It feels like an insult to Yaku’s height. 

“Sorry,” Kuroo says, “I didn’t mean to put it up so high. I always forget how short you are.”

That was definitely an insult — one that Kuroo learns never to give again. Yaku ensures that with a swift kick to the shins. 

As Kuroo barks a defensive apology (while staggering in pain), Yaku concludes that today is a day of both arguments and height.

Wonderful.

 

*****

“I can’t concentrate with you watching over my shoulder like a creep. Haven’t you ever heard of a personal bubble?” 

Yaku can still feel Kuroo’s breathing against ear, so he turns with a sharp glare to stare him down. Kuroo holds up his hands in surrender and backs off. “I just wanted to make sure you weren’t cheating.”

“You can tell if I’m cheating or not from where you are. Besides, I don’t need to cheat to make good coffee,” Yaku replies. 

The coffee finishes draining into the mug below it and Yaku removes the cone to add his other ingredients. He pours a minimal amount of half and half into a small tupperware before putting a lid on it. 

“What are you doing?” Kuroo asks. 

Yaku smiles. “I don’t have a frother to make the half and half foamy, so I just put it in a container and shake it.”

Kuroo groans. “You sound so old fashioned, it’s embarrassing me.”

“It’s called a simplistic life,” Yaku responds. He shakes the half and half until it’s a proper foam consistency and adds it to the coffee. As a finishing touch, he sprinkles a swirl of brown sugar atop the foam. At the very least, the presentation is done well. He hands the mug to Kuroo and leans back against the counter, waiting for the reaction.

Kuroo smells the contents skeptically before taking a sip. And then another. And another. He smacks his lips together and furrows his eyebrows. “Did you put cinnamon in this?”

Yaku nods. “I did.”

“And half and half and sugar.”

“You literally just watched me add them, yes.”

“And coffee.”

“Obviously.”

“From where?”

“Well, I bought them from the store, but the grounds came from Costa Rica. They’re the grounds I usually use, and the deal was that I can’t use special coffee grounds. To me, this isn’t special. This is normal.” 

“Let me get this straight,” Kuroo narrows his eyes, “ you buy yourself fancy coffee, but the only food you buy is ramen and take out?”

Yaku shrugs. “What can I say, I value my coffee.”

“Clearly.”

“So, what do you think? Still taste like dirt?”

Kuroo blows on the liquid a bit and takes another sip. He ponders for a moment before saying, “No, it doesn’t, and you know what? I’m not even mad that this tastes good. I’m just mad that you’ve been withholding this from me for more than a month now. You’ve been letting me drink hot dirt water for five weeks while you’ve been cooking this up for yourself. That’s just cruel.” Kuroo shakes his head in mock disappointment and drinks again from the mug. 

“It’s your own fault that you don’t know how to make coffee right.”

“What was I doing wrong?”

Yaku sighs and begins preparing his own cup of coffee. “Well first, you were using the cheapest, worst brand of coffee possible. Second, you were putting in too much coffee grounds, so it was way too strong. And lastly, you didn’t add anything to it, really. Adding things doesn’t tone down the caffeine, it just makes it taste good.”

“And you couldn’t bother telling me any of this when you noticed?”

Yaku smirked. “That would’ve taken the shock value out of my excellent coffee skills.”

Kuroo nodded in understanding and held his cup out to knock lightly against Yaku’s. “Well played. Although, it is a shame that we won’t be getting that coffee machine. It’s still quicker.”

“Substituting quality for speed makes coffee worthless.”

“And yet you substitute quality for speed every day when you eat ramen rather than just making something to eat,” Kuroo teases.

“That’s different. Cooking is difficult to master, whereas coffee is easy and simple. Besides, a coffee machine would have taken up so much counter space. We don’t exactly have enough room for that.”

Kuroo shrugs and takes another sip of his coffee before setting it down. “A guy can dream, right?” He walks over to one of the lower cabinets and begins to pull out a pan. “I’m gonna make some breakfast. D’you want anything?”

Yaku could never get used to a coffee maker, but he thinks he could get used to this.

 

*****

Kuroo is pretty sure his lungs are on fire.

He’s also pretty sure it’s worth it for the look of defeat on Daichi’s face. He honestly can’t remember the last time he outran Daichi on a run, but damn does it feel good. He claps a hand against Daichi’s back and gives him a full grin. “Has the food from your cooking classes finally got to you? You were a bit slow there Daichi.”

Daichi responds with a lazy punch to his shoulder. “I may have lost the run, but I can still bench more than you. What’s your excuse for that?”

They continue bickering as they sit on the grass in the park and stretch, drinking water every now and then. The topic of conversation jumps around from school, to work, to the future, to Suga, and finally, Daichi asks about Yaku. “And Yaku?”

“What about Yaku?” Kuroo questions in return.

“How is it living with him?”

Kuroo takes a moment to choose his words. “If anything, he’s fun to argue with. He can get pretty riled up. Most of the time, he’s pretty moody, but it’s nothing compared to how Yamamoto used to get. I did make the mistake of calling him short once.”

Daichi snaps his head up to stare at his friend. “You didn’t.”

“I did, and I sported two lovely bruises on my shins for a few days after as payback.”

Daichi laughed and shook his head. “Oh man, yeah, Yaku’s height is a bit of a sore spot. You don’t really want to push that one. Other than that, everything else is good?”

Kuroo smiles. “I mean, he disagrees with me on everything, but...I don’t know. Living with Yaku is fun. I’d say things are pretty good.”

 

*****

“Suga, he’s awful.”

Suga scoffs. “Come on, Yaku-san, I’ve lived with him, too. He isn’t that bad.”

“We fight all the time, and he leaves his mugs on the coffee table constantly, and he’s so tall, I swear he’s part giant, and he’s rearranged all the cooking utensils so many ti—”

“You never even cook. Why do you care if he actually puts your kitchen to use?” Suga sports a teasing smirk as he interrupts his friend. Sitting back in his seat, he continues. “Besides, he makes delicious food. Have you ever eaten something he’s made?”

Yaku glares at his coffee in his hands. The cafe they are seated in sells Yaku’s favorite coffee, which only reminds Yaku of when he brought Kuroo here to reap his reward from winning the bet — a bag of dark roast, Arabica grounds from Kenya. The combination of his new coffee and Kuroo’s breakfast makings has enhanced the quality of his mornings, even when Kuroo is being...well, himself. 

“Yeah,” Yaku finally answers, “he makes breakfast for us sometimes. It was kind of startling, at first. The morning after he moved in, he had breakfast made for both of us — omelettes. I only ever had omelettes — I only ever had a real breakfast when I went home. Now I’m getting a proper breakfast at least once a week. It’s weird. He can’t make coffee, though; I’ve banned him from it. I don’t know how, but he makes disgusting coffee.”

Suga laughs and agrees. “Yeah, but it sounds like it makes you get along...”

“What makes us get along? His gross coffee?”

“No, breakfast. He makes the food, you make the coffee. It sounds pretty...domestic.” Suga’s lips form a smile around that final word, which contrasts Yaku’s frown. 

“We are not domestic. We are just tolerant towards each other,” Yaku argues. 

“Are you sure that’s what it is? Are you sure Kuroo sees it that way, too?”

Yaku takes a long sip from his coffee. He doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to.

They change the subject. 

 

*****

 

The months pass by. Kuroo and Yaku continue to tolerate each other. Yaku discovers the cause of Kuroo’s bedhead. Kuroo discovers Yaku’s kick-ass videogame skills (and loses 2000 yen as a result). They argue; they share breakfast; they spend more time studying at home — and if they just so happen to study together from time to time, well… that’s just a coincidence. Kuroo invites Yaku to work out with him and Daichi every now and again, but he declines the offer each time. Yaku finds it easiest to tolerate Kuroo on the days his roommate stress cooks. It give him the opportunity to be a free taste tester for everything Kuroo makes. From mochi, to pork buns, to udon, Yaku feels like he’s learning to be a food critic just as much as he’s studying to be a teacher. 

This is only ever a problem when Kuroo decides 3 a.m. is a good time to stress cook. He claims to have a need for “midnight snacks,” and wanders into the kitchen at ungodly hours of the night a couple times per week. He tries to be as stealthy and silent as possible, but Yaku has been woken by clanging pots, and closing cabinet doors, and even just by the smell of Kuroo’s cooking. The first time this occurred, Yaku thought a burglar had broken into the apartment and nearly whacked Kuroo’s head off with the broom.

(“What the hell are you doing?” Yaku growled at his roommate standing before the stove.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Just needed a midnight snack,” Kuroo replied calmly.

“You moron, I almost took your head off with the broom!” Yaku waved said object in front of him as if to prove a point.

Kuroo chuckled. “I’d like to see you try.”

Yaku had the courtesy of leaving Kuroo’s head intact, but the blow he delivered with the broom wasn’t exactly soft.)

He wouldn’t say the past few months with Kuroo have been pleasant, but Yaku figures he’s getting used to him, and he wouldn’t necessarily call that unpleasant.

It’s tolerance, Yaku thinks, Just tolerance.

As he walks into the kitchen one morning, Kuroo grins at him and says, “I made breakfast.”

Yaku can’t help but smile back, and a small voice lurking in his mind, which sounds an awful lot like Suga, whispers a nagging reminder — it takes more than tolerance to make you smile. 

Yaku ignores the whisper and sits on the barstool by the counter while Kuroo begins to pester him about something or other.

Tolerance. Just tolerance.

 

*****

Yaku slowly wakes on a Saturday, the sunlight of the late spring morning streaking through the blinds and across the floor. A choir of birds sing harmonies just outside his window, and he would appreciate them if wasn’t still sleepy. Maybe if Kuroo had been quieter with his “midnight snacks” the night before, Yaku could have slept better. The temptation of falling asleep again is powerful, but he knows Kuroo usually makes breakfast for the two of them on Saturdays, and if he sleeps in any longer, he might miss the opportunity. So with heavy eyelids and stiff joints, he slips out of bed and exits the comforts of his room. He freezes as he enters the kitchen.

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong. Yaku wishes it didn’t concern him as much as it does, but he can’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach. 

Because in all the months he’s lived with Kuroo he’s never seen a messy kitchen.

Kuroo, who is meticulous with his cooking process, who values a thorough clean up and puts everything back in its place, who hates leaving dirty dishes in the sink — Kuroo, who seemingly left the kitchen a disaster and is nowhere to be seen. 

Yaku, of course, jumps to the worst case scenario, presuming something horrible has happened to Kuroo. With his heart pounding in his ears, Yaku rushes to Kuroo’s room and flings open the door. The blinds are closed and the curtains are drawn, creating the maximum level of darkness in the room. Yaku is only able to see the figure on the bed from the light illuminating the room from the now open door. He reaches Kuroo’s bedside in a few quick strides and wastes no time in shaking his roommate awake.

“Kuroo, wake up! Kuroo!”

He flicks the switch on the lamp atop the nightstand to get a better look at Kuroo’s face, but this only causes Kuroo to groan and turn over in bed. Judging by the dark circles under Kuroo’s eyes, Yaku wonders if he’s sick. Which only makes him feel ridiculous for worrying, and annoyed at the relief he feels that Kuroo is probably fine. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks.

Kuroo groans again and pulls the covers up around his head. “Are you always this loud in the mornings?” he asks in a strangely soft voice. 

Yaku scowls. “Are you always this obnoxious?” He knows it was a weak comeback, but he blames it on having just woken up and the fact that he shouldn’t be mean to a sick person. 

Kuroo doesn’t even seem to have a retort, though, besides his hand swatting behind him and mumbling, “Off, turn it off.”

“What?”

“The light. Turn off the light. It’s too bright,” he says quietly, and Yaku complies. As Kuroo rolls back towards him, the shorter man takes a few steps back.

“Are you sick?” Yaku questions.

Even in the dark, Yaku can see how bloodshot Kuroo’s eyes are. “Too much…”

“Too much what?”

Kuroo swipes his tongue over his chapped lips. “Too much gin.”

“You’re hungover?!” Yaku sputters.

Kuroo folds his pillow over his head, blocking out Yaku’’s voice. His face contorts into a scowl. “Yes, so please,” he whispers. “Speak at a lower volume.”

Yaku isn’t sure what to do. Kuroo closes his eyes once more, as if to fall back asleep. Technically, Yaku could go back to his own bed and do the same, but he’s already awake and Kuroo just looks so miserable. He wouldn’t say he feels… obligated to help his roommate, but there’s no harm in helping. Besides, Yaku is the only one currently available to, god forbid he say the word, care for him.

So, Yaku leaves the room and returns with a tall glass of water and a few painkillers to ease Kuroo’s headache. As Yaku sets the items down on the nightstand, he asks, “What time did you get home last night?” He makes sure he’s speaking quietly and when he glances at Kuroo, waiting for a response, his roommate gives him a strangely vulnerable look. An involuntary sense of pity strikes Yaku, but only for a moment. Just because Kuroo looks pitiful doesn’t doesn’t mean he can’t handle himself. After all, he did choose to get himself into this situation. He knew the consequences. 

Kuroo’s voice is hoarse when he replies. “‘M not sure. Two a.m. maybe?”

“Well, it’s 11 o’clock now, so you’ve had a whole nine hours of sleep. If you sleep any more, you’ll screw up your sleep schedule.”

“I’m a typical college student, I’m allowed to have unhealthy sleeping habits,” Kuroo grumbles.

Yaku smirks. “Which means someday you’ll be an atypical adult who’s always sleep deprived and regrets his life choices. Now swallow these pills. They’ll make you feel better.” He forces Kuroo to sit up and hands him the water and painkillers, despite the complaints he receives — something about being able to, “take care of himself,” and how Yaku is acting “motherly,” and his “need for sleep.”

The chill of the water makes Kuroo cringe as he sips it from the cup, but he drinks it all anyway to wash down the pills. “Why are you helping me?” he questions.

Yaku purses his lips. “Because the kitchen is a mess, and I sure as hell ain’t going to clean it. Which means you’re going to have to be at a functional level to clean it yourself, and you’re going to need help to get to that point.”

Kuroo grimaces. “I think I liked it better when you were being nice.”

“My kindness comes at a price for you.”

“Only for me?” Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “I feel so special.”

“Oh, you’re special all right — a special idiot.”

“But still special,” Kuroo says. He slumps down to pull the covers over his shoulders and flashes Yaku with a leering grin that’s supposed to seem innocent. “You know what goes really well with painkillers?” When Yaku’s only response is narrowing his eyes, Kuroo continues. “Miso soup. And coffee. Miso soup and coffee sound so good right now.”

“Where do you expect me to get miso soup? Have you forgotten that I can’t cook? And besides, I’m your flatmate, not your caregiver.”

“Have you forgotten how many times I’ve made your breakfast, flatmate?” Yaku’s argumentative demeanor deflates at that and Kuroo smirks. “There’s a market down the street that sells pretty decent miso soup. And you specialize in coffee, so…”

“I hate you,” Yaku sulks.

“Nah, you don’t.”

Yaku can’t find it in himself to disagree.

Thirty minutes later, he has Kuroo propped up in bed with a bowl of miso soup in his lap and a cup of strong, black coffee on the tabletop beside the mattress. He had tried to drag Kuroo out of bed and into the kitchen—literally—but he wouldn’t budge. “I don’t want to have to stare at the mess I made while eating. It’ll only make me feel worse,” Kuroo had said. Yaku figured it wouldn’t hurt to let the man eat breakfast in bed this once, and even pulled out his desk chair to sit and eat beside him in silence. 

“You know, if you had hydrated by drinking water, you wouldn’t have such a bad hangover,” Yaku scolds, breaking the quiet of the room.

“Oh, yeah, sure Yakkun, I will totally be able to remember that the next time I’m completely wasted.”

“It’s called planning ahead, moron.” Yaku pauses mid-bite of his soup and stares at Kuroo. “Wait, what did you call me?”

Kuroo makes a curious noise as he slurps his soup from his spoon. He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. 

Yaku scowls and continues. “Did you just call me Yakkun?”

Kuroo hums in response. “Oh yeah, I guess I did. It’s cute. Fits you well.”

Yaku is grateful for the darkness of the room, so Kuroo can’t see the way his cheeks are burning. “It does not, don’t call me that.”

If Kuroo’s smirk is any indication, Yaku figures this won’t be the last time he uses the nickname. 

“Whatever you say… Yakkun.” 

Yaku kicks at the mattress and jostles it just enough for a splash of Kuroo’s soup to spill onto his lap. The latter yelps and glares at his roommate. “You’re a little punk, you know that?”

“Call me little again and I’ll spill your coffee on your bed sheets, too.” Yaku spoons the last of his soup into his mouth and snatches his own cup of coffee off the nightstand before leaving the room. He disposes the paper bowl into the kitchen garbage and takes a seat on the couch in the living room while he finishes his coffee and catches up on his assigned reading for a class. Ten minutes later, he hears the sound of Kuroo’s footsteps as he exits his room and heads into the kitchen. Yaku drowns out the noise of running water and clanging dishes as he reads, and therefore doesn’t notice when Kuroo emerges from the kitchen and into the living room. 

“Hey, try one of these. Tell me what you think.”

Yaku turns to see his roommate holding out a tray of cookies. “Did you just make these?” he asks, reaching out to grab one.

“No,” Kuroo answers, “I made them last night when I got home. I think they’re pretty good, considering I was extremely inebriated.”

Yaku is skeptical, but bites into the treat anyways and is pleasantly surprised that Kuroo is right — they are actually quite tasteful. He takes another bite, concentrating on the flavors. Over the time they’ve lived together, he’s learned that Kuroo likes a thorough critique of his cooking. Yaku constantly wonders why his roommate isn’t a culinary major, instead of a science nerd. 

After swallowing his second bite, he says, “I would prefer it if they were softer, and not so crisp. Also, it wouldn’t hurt to add more coconut. Otherwise, I have to say, it’s really frustrating that your drunk cooking is still better than my sober cooking.”

Kuroo gives him a lazy grin. “So they’re good, right?”

Yaku scowls and swipes another cookie from the tray. “Don’t make me spell it out for you. I’ve given you enough kindness for one day.”

Kuroo’s grin grows strangely soft, yet teasing. “I could never get enough of your kindness, Yakkun.”

Yaku’s jaw nearly drops, but he manages to keep it in check. Fighting the blush rising to his face, he says the first thing that comes to mind. “Do you always say stupid things when you’re hungover?”

“If you think that’s stupid, wait ‘til you see me when I’m drunk,” Kuroo says with a wink before walking back towards the kitchen. 

Wanting to have the last word, Yaku says to his retreating roommate, “I think what you say sober is stupid enough already.”

Kuroo looks back at Yaku one more time before slipping through the kitchen doorway. “If it’s so stupid, then why are you so red?”

Yaku’s only answer is throwing his pillow at Kuroo, who escapes before it reaches him. He wished he wasn’t as flustered as he was. Kuroo is probably just a flirty drunk. That’s what it must be.

That’s what it has to be.

 

*****

 

Kuroo’s brain is utterly fried. He doesn’t even want to count the number of hours he just spent in the library, studying for his exams. The thought of summer vacation being only a week away is his sole motivation to keep up his studies. As he makes his way up the stairs of his apartment building, he reminds himself to be quiet, since he figures Yaku is sleeping. It’s sometime in the early hours of the morning and Yaku has a surprisingly consistent sleep schedule (most of the time), which includes going to bed at a reasonable hour. Kuroo, on the other hand, thinks healthy sleeping habits are overrated for college students. At this point in the game, he might as well wait until adulthood to develop a healthy lifestyle. 

When he reaches the door of his and Yaku’s apartment, he does his best to quietly slip the key into the lock and slowly turns it to make sure it doesn’t creak. He sneaks into the entryway and slips off his shoes. His stomach releases a noise that Kuroo recognizes as a demand for food, so he tip-toes towards the kitchen. As he makes his way over, he notices a light just past the kitchen counter, illuminating the living room. To his surprise, it’s an open computer screen. Even more surprising is that the computer in question is seated in Yaku’s lap who looks to have fallen asleep with his head resting against his chest. One of Yaku’s fingers seems to have been resting on the ‘a’ key for a bit too long, and has left a string of a’s flowing on the page. Kuroo desperately wants to give him a jump scare, but he refrains, wary of the consequences.

Instead, he approaches his roommate quietly and speaks softly to avoid startling him. “Yakkun? Yakkun, wake up, man.”

Yaku’s head snaps up and his hands fly off the keyboard, ending the line of a’s Yaku was unintentionally writing. He swings his head around and looks blearily up at Kuroo, his eyes slowly widening in alarm. “What time is it? How long have I been asleep?” 

Kuroo shrugs, removing his backpack in the process. “It’s about two thirty in the morning. And you’ve been asleep for about as long as you’ve been pressing ‘a’. I wouldn’t really know how long that’s been though; I just got home.”

Yaku sighs in relief and sinks back into the couch again. As he begins deleting his paragraph of a’s, Kuroo just stands there, unsure of what to do. “What are you doing up so late? You are usually in bed by now,” he asks.

“I’m writing one of my final papers. I procrastinated a bit and now it’s due in twenty-four hours,” Yaku says.

“How long have you been writing for?”

“Sometime yesterday afternoon.”

“And how much more do you have to write?”

Yaku reaches the end of his a’s and contemplates his answer for a moment. “About twenty pages.” He looks up at Kuroo with a grimace. “More or less.”

Kuroo winces at that. “Why did you wait so long to write it?”

“Lack of motivation, writer’s block, laziness, call it what you will, I had it bad. I couldn’t think of anything to say for the essay so I just avoided it like a proper adult.”

“Wow, you’re going to be such a competent teacher some day,” Kuroo says, his words dripping with sarcasm.

Yaku ignores the comment and rubs his hands down his face. Kuroo can tell Yaku’s already fighting sleep again and figures his services are needed, whether Yaku wants them or not. He leans over and closes the laptop, despite Yaku’s protests, and sets it on the coffee table. Grasping Yaku’s arms, he pulls him onto his feet and stares sternly at his roommate. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do.”

“We?” Yaku mumbles weakly.

Kuroo nods and places his hands on the other’s shoulders. “Yes, we.” He guides him to the kitchen and seats him at one of the barstools. He fills up the tea kettle and pulls out two mugs. “We are going to get some caffeine into our systems, I am going to cook us up some sustenance, and we are going to make sure this paper is done before the deadline, even if it takes us all night.”

Yaku can only sit and watch as Kuroo takes out a pan and a pot, along with several ingredients. He isn’t sure what to say, and to be quite honest, he’s still trying to conjure up the energy to fight the sleep straining to overcome him. He doesn’t even realize he’s zoning out until Kuroo places a steaming plate of eggs, rice, and fried pork in front of him, snapping him out of his stupor. Next, he sets down a cup of coffee beside his plate. 

“I know my coffee is average at best, but it’ll keep you awake for as long as you need,” Kuroo says.

Yaku offers up a weak smile. “Thanks.”

It’s quiet at first while they dig into their food. Then Kuroo asks, “Why do you want to be a teacher?” He does it more to keep Yaku from falling asleep in the midst of eating rather than actually wanting to know, but the curiosity is there, too.

 

Yaku sighs. “I mentored this kid back in high school, and honestly, I kind of hated it at first. He was annoying and tall, like you, but much more clingy.” He smirked as Kuroo flicked a grain of rice at him. “He was just a first year when I was in my third year, and I helped him find his classroom on the first day. After that, he stuck to me like glue. It was a nightmare. His grades were terrible and he would beg me to tutor him almost every day after school. For the first few weeks, I would brush him off, but he finally persuaded me. The process was slow, and he was a real idiot, but within a few months, his grades were improving and it felt...strangely satisfying. There’s just… this sense of pride you get when you can see the changes you make in someone’s life.” He takes another bite of food before continuing. “Or maybe I just like diminishing the number of stupid people in the world to the best of my abilities.”

Kuroo chuckles. “It’s probably the latter.” 

Yaku jabs his chopsticks towards him. “What about you? Why do you want to study science?”

Kuroo shrugs. “As a traveling researcher, I’d get to see the world while I’m young, but as for the science part, well…” he takes a drink of his coffee and considers the question. “I like learning about how the world works. It makes sense to me. And it doesn’t hurt that it makes me sound smart.”

Yaku scoffs. “Of course that’s part of the reason.”

While they eat, they talk about things that you really only talk about at three a.m. — dumb questions like, “Why is the sky blue?” and serious questions like, “Are you scared of graduating?” and questions just for the sake of conversation like, “How did you meet Daichi and Suga?” After it all, Yaku felt more awake and alert, ready to finish his paper. Although he would never admit it, he appreciated Kuroo’s support. If it weren’t for him, he probably would have slept for too long and woken up at noon, or something. 

Together, they clean the kitchen and Yaku begins to walk back to the living room when he notices Kuroo following him. “Aren’t you going to go to bed?” Yaku asks.

Kuroo shakes his head. “I gotta make sure you don’t fall asleep again.”

Yaku frowns. “You don’t have to do that.”

In response, Kuroo waves his hand at him. “I don’t have a class until three tomorrow. Don’t worry about it.” He pulls out a book from his backpack and starts reading it as Yaku hunkers down on the couch and pulls his laptop onto his lap again. He takes a deep breath and spares a glance at Kuroo in the armchair beside the couch. The tension in Yaku’s body evaporates and he stops worrying about falling asleep again. He trusts Kuroo to wake him again if it happens and for that, he’s grateful. 

Several hours later, he wakes to an alarm buzzing next to his ear. Sunshine is beaming through the living room window and Yaku takes in his current situation. His laptop is open, but the screen is dark on the coffee table. He is currently laying down on the couch with a blanket pulled over his body. The phone vibrating on the table is close to falling over the edge, so Yaku grabs it and shuts off the alarm. Rubbing his eyes, he reaches for the laptop. He knows he isn’t finished with his paper yet. A hand stops him and his eyes trail up the arm in front of him until he’s staring at Kuroo’s face — a face that looks as though it’s been awake for far too many hours. Granted, it probably has. 

“You’ve got six pages left to write. It’s thirty minutes past noon. You can finish it after breakfast,” Kuroo says with finality.

Yaku blinks up at him. “Breakfast?”

“Yes, I made breakfast. Meat is included.”

Yaku manages a smirk. “You sure it’s meat and not fish?”

Kuroo glowers at him and turns away. “If we had any fish, I definitely would have chosen that instead.”

“I know, that’s why I was just making sure it wasn’t.”

“Fish is better for you.”

“Meat tastes better.”

“Lies.”

They’d had this argument several times before, neither of them ever winning. It always ended in an ‘agree to disagree’ situation.

As Yaku dug into his food, he noticed Kuroo’s sluggish movements while he cleaned the kitchen. “Did you sleep at all?”

His roommate yawned and shook his head. “A little, but not much. When I realized I wouldn’t be able to stay awake, I set an alarm for both of us.”

Yaku frowns. “You shouldn’t have stayed up with me. You have class today.”

Kuroo keeps his eyes on his food as he says, “It’s worth it if it’s for a good cause.” 

Yaku punches his shoulder as both of their lips form soft smiles. “Stop being cheesy. It doesn’t suit you.” He pushes his food around his plate with his chopsticks. “And you really shouldn’t have made me breakfast today, either.”

“Quit whining about it and finish your food so you can turn in your essay. Just…” Kuroo sets down his coffee and turns fully towards Yaku. There are bags under his eyes (no doubt under Yaku’s eyes, too), and his shoulders droop as if there’s a weight dragging him down. His eyes reveal the epitome of weariness that a college student experiences during finals week, but also hold the intensity of focus — focus aimed at Yaku. Although he feels guilty that Kuroo did all this for him, he now sees that there’s no regret in Kuroo’s eyes about doing any of it. So, he listens as Kuroo continues, now that his roommate has his full attention. “Just… say thank you and let me do something nice for you.”

That intensity lingers for a moment after, and then it’s gone. Kuroo returns to wiping down the counters and Yaku is left staring at his back. He takes a drink of the coffee Kuroo made for him and swallows down the bitterness — both the coffee’s and his own. 

It’s spoken so softly, Kuroo almost doesn’t hear it. But he does. And when he looks back at Yaku, he knows the ‘thank you’ wasn’t an obligatory one — he knows he meant it. 

So Kuroo smiles.

And Yaku smiles back.

Yaku learns that Kuroo grows softer as he becomes more sleep deprived. The hard shell of snark and sarcasm breaks away until all that’s left is his inner kindness. Sure, he can be snappy, and cranky, and sluggish, and lazy, but Yaku doesn’t mind it. 

He could almost say he likes this side of Kuroo.

Almost.

 

*****

 

Kuroo wishes he could say he hadn’t dreamt of Yaku in the shape of molecules and DNA double helixes, scolding him about his deficiency in niacin and iron because he refused to eat steak, but then he’d be lying. He scowls at dream Yaku and vows right then and there to make udon tonight with steak, just to prove he’s getting his proper niacin and iron intake. Then he actually wakes up and realizes there’s no need.

First of all, it was only a dream, so he has nothing to prove to anyone.

Second of all, it’s his and Yaku’s last morning in the apartment before summer break. They are both leaving for the train station this afternoon to go to their parents’ houses. The houses are, respectively, on complete opposite ends of the Tokyo prefecture, which means that it’s highly unlikely that they will see each other over break. 

Not that Kuroo would want to see Yaku over break. He’s just...speculating. 

He relishes in the ability to sleep in without any major responsibilities awaiting him for several more minutes. However, he can’t fall back asleep, so he eventually slides his legs over the edge of the bed and stands. His joints audibly pop as he stretches and makes his way out of his room and into the kitchen. He used up most of the food throughout the last week so they wouldn’t have any groceries left when they were ready to leave today. That means there is no food on the shelves of the fridge or cabinets as Kuroo searches the kitchen for breakfast items. All that’s left is a bag of coffee grounds and bread. 

When Yaku wanders into the kitchen minutes later, Kuroo is spreading the last of the butter over his toast. 

 

“Morning, Yakkun~” Kuroo chirps. 

The other responds with a yawn and an eye rub that isn’t endearing in the slightest. “What’s for breakfast?”

“It’s a real special today,” Kuroo says, presenting Yaku with two pieces of toast, both buttered and dripping with honey. “I figured I’d try a classic Yaku-style breakfast today. Toast and coffee.”

Yaku sweeps one of the pieces of toast into his palm and goes to prepare his coffee. He absentmindedly takes a bite and freezes, staring down at the bread like it’s grown a second head. “There’s honey on this,” he says.

Kuroo turns, his own toast dangling from his mouth. “Yeah, it’s tasteless without toppings and we’re out of marmalade, so I used honey. Is that an issue?” He’s desperately hoping that his roommate isn’t allergic to honey, but before he can say anything, Yaku levels him with a glare that shuts him up. 

“You just have to show me up in everything, don’t you? Literally, it’s toast. You’ve outdone me in making toast. Unbelievable.” Out of anger, Yaku sets his mug down on the counter rather harshly and a loud clank reverberates throughout the kitchen. 

Kuroo is confused. “What do you mean? How else do you eat toast?”

As Yaku sets up his coffee rather vigorously, he says, “I just have toast. I literally eat plain toast.”

Kuroo cackles at his roommate. “Yakkun, are you serious right now? You can make basic ramen, but you eat plain toast?”

The tall one can see Yaku’s blush spread from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “At least I can make coffee right. That’s a pretty basic task that even you fail at,” Yaku argues.

“Yaku, we’re talking toast, here. Toast.”

“Shut up. I don’t need this.” Yaku takes another bite of his bread and scowls. “This is delicious.”

Kuroo is laughing again and the morning goes on like this, bickering and bantering, like always, and he thinks, This is nice. They chat about summer plans — Kuroo claims the beaches are where the excitement is at, while Yaku adamantly argues the superiority of a trip to the mountains.

(“Maybe you like the mountains so much because you’re so cold,” Kuroo teases. 

“Well, maybe you like the beaches because you’re so-” Yaku stops himself before he finishes, but it’s too late. 

Kuroo raises his eyebrows and grins like the cheshire cat. “Yakkun, were you about to call me-”

“Stop talking right now,” Yaku growls. Kuroo has never seen his face so red.)

Kuroo’s train leaves before Yaku’s, so he’s out of the apartment by one p.m. He and Yaku say their farewells at the door and Yaku gives him an almost friendly punch to the shoulder as he tells him to have a safe journey. Kuroo gives him the same sentiment before leaving their apartment. They won’t see each other for six weeks.He might almost say he would miss this — miss Yaku — but he wouldn’t go that far. 

Not yet, anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS NOT THE END
> 
> There will be more chapters after this, though I don't know how frequently they will be uploaded, simply because I'm in my senior year and I'm super stressed. But they will go up. I look forward to finishing this fic and I appreciate any recommendations or critiques!


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